Teal Walls
by Azrael Cameo
Summary: Summary: Post-TRF, Oneshot. Sherlock witnesses molly with an old friend and realizes that teal is an interesting color. I own nothing. Sherlock and Molly. RE-UPLOADED. the other document was mistakenly unedited.


So, this is really my first time writing so sorry if I am off with the characterization! Any comments are greatly appreciated!

Note: I re-uploaded this because the last one was the unedited document. I uploaded the one I tried to edit. I miss things though. Sorry for the any typos/grammar inaccuracies still left in!

Teal Walls

It had been three weeks since Sherlock Holmes had taken his fall at the hospital. It had been three weeks since the world continued to turn after the world's only consulting detective's alleged suicide. It had been three weeks during which Sherlock resided at Molly Hooper's Flat. The adjustment had been hard on both of them.

Sherlock, cut off from the world, had to find ways of fending off boredom which was seemingly difficult from the ordinary state of Molly's flat. Sherlock glanced around him looking at the small flat. The teal blue walls looked different as the lighting in the room changed. The more light there was the more vibrant the colors of the walls seemed. The medium sized television sat on white older-looking furniture. Old magazines were strewn across the coffee table and the wide bookcase next to the television held an array of movies as well as books. In front of the sofa on the wall was a decorative mirror with the same white, old-fashioned theme that ran through molly's flat. Underneath it was a matching small table which Sherlock had laid his violin on. The room was not entirely messy but it was slightly disorganized. It was easy to see that Molly Hooper tried to keep the flat looking clean but that she did not have the time for it. Overall the apartment was ordinary and predictable. Although to be fair, almost everything was to the genius detective.

Sherlock sighed and laid lazily on the white, leather sofa that he had become accustomed to over the past three weeks, turning on some trashy reality show. He always fails to remember the name of the show because all trashy shows seem about the same. He looked at the clock that read that it was a quarter past eight. Molly had been working late again. Despite being infatuated with the supposed dead man she was harboring, the past three weeks had been rough on Molly Hooper as well. She had to get used to Sherlock's abnormal and somewhat irritating tendencies. The past three weeks had forced her to appreciate John Watson and Mrs. Hudson for their tolerance of his habits. Regardless, Molly Hooper was a loyal, patient friend and that was not going to change. Something that did change however was that for the first time in their relationship Molly had the authority to say no to Sherlock …and his bloody dismembered body parts in the fridge. It was her home and her right to lay down the law. Sherlock noticed that Molly was less mousy at home than she is when she is outside or at the hospital. For Molly her home was the one place where she was in her element. It was easy to feel lost outside in the world, where things were out of place for her, but in her own home she displayed more confidence.

Sherlock heard her light footsteps outside the door of her flat, and the key turning in the lock. Molly walked in smiling tiredly.

"Hello Molly" Sherlock greeted her with his smooth, yet bored sounding voice. Molly quietly responded throwing her bag on to the small dining table claiming that she was going to wash up. Sherlock acknowledged her statement with a low sounding "hmm" as if to say _alright_, keeping his eyes on the TV screen. This routine never changed. Everyday the same conversation transpired between the two and the last three weeks had been monotonous. Ordinary lives or peaceful lives were exceedingly dull it seemed to Sherlock.

Twenty minutes later Molly walked out of the bedroom in an old pair of jeans that actually were quite flattering towards her figure. A long sleeved Jersey tee with her alma mater's logo adorned her with the sleeves pushed up to her elbow. She had let her hair down the caramel waves cascading over her shoulder as she bent forward to check her fridge since they had yet to eat dinner. Molly had been preoccupied with work the past week and had not found the time to go shopping so the fridge contained very little besides half a carton of milk and two bottles of wine.

"Sherlock, I think we may have to have food delivered. Is that alright?" Molly questioned. It was irritating for Sherlock that he had to stay out of the public's eye. He knew that there was barely anything in the fridge and would have not even minded going out and running groceries just to break the monotony of hiding, but he couldn't. He took a great risk observing John at the cemetery, but Molly knew that Sherlock would have to see him and Mrs. Hudson. It was the very least a dead man can take comfort in.

"It seems we have no other option, do we?" he responded turning off the TV while turning to face her. Molly turned to look back at him. "Oh, no! No, Sherlock there are always other options." She said smiling back at him, "We could starve ourselves, go on a fast or down two bottles of wine" she said sighing tiredly. She was tired and her humor was bleak. She needed to relax after her busy work week.

Sherlock looked curiously at her. It was different seeing Molly when she wasn't intimidated and blatantly infatuated with him. "You don't rea-" he began but was cut off at the sound of the buzzer. _This is different _mused Sherlock. Sherlock knew that Molly for the most part was always alone. She never really had any visitors. Molly was startled, but she walked over to the buzzer and hit the button.

"y-yes?" she spoke into it cautiously.

"We never did see Singapore together, did we?" responded a smooth male voice. Sherlock was interested since this was a change of events. Molly laughed "oh dear, well then come on up" she happily said as she buzzed in the man. Sherlock studied Molly's reaction. She appeared to be genuinely happy at the presence of this unexpected visitor. She turned to Sherlock and apologized to him asking if he could stay quiet in the bedroom while her visitor was here. Sherlock found himself being pushed into the bedroom as she said this. Sherlock being curious, questioned molly, "Who is this person?" Molly smiled as she responded with "Oliver Halifax". She looked up at Sherlock with her hand the door about to leave when she noticed Sherlock giving her a look that said "and?" Her smiled returned as she clarified "It's fine Sherlock. He's an old friend". She turned around after that, going to open the door that had just been knocked on. Sherlock positioned himself to be able to see out the crack of the door looking at the mirror that gave him full access to Molly's encounter with this "Oliver Halifax".

Molly opened the door and a tall man with dark auburn colored hair walked in stretching out his long arms to sweep Molly up in an embrace exclaiming "Ace! Oh my god. Look at you Molly Hooper! Just as lovely as ever!" Molly laughed returning the hug replying "Ollie, you have no idea how ecstatic I am that you are here! but that does make me wonder…why are you here?" she leaned away from him narrowing her eyes questioningly. They both moved to sit on the couch which improved Sherlock's vision of the man and Molly. The man was approximately five foot ten with grey eyes and an angular masculine jaw. He had various tan lines on his body signified that he had spent time traveling. She continued "I mean…shouldn't you be off in the Amazon talking pictures of exotic birds… or somewhere in Costa Rica zip-lining or something?" she said. Sherlock turned up the corners of his mouth content that he had a new "specimen" to study. Furthermore, It seemed to be that his deductions were right. Of course, they always were.

Oliver Halifax had known Molly Hooper since they were both twelve years old. He was the opposite of Molly in almost every way, which is what made their friendship valuable. The first time they had met he had just moved into her neighborhood. He met her at the bus stop instantly starting up conversation with the incredibly shy bookworm-ish 12 year old girl, talking about how he liked to read too, after he noticed a book in her hands. Oliver was one of those people who everywhere he went he made friends with people easily. He was friendly. That was the first time they met. However, the first time they really acted like friends was when Oliver had stood up to a group of kids he was friends with after they had bullied her. Molly never really had any friends growing up, yet he had stuck up for her. He was her first real friend. That was the other thing, Oliver was compassionate. He had helped Molly clean up everything since the bullies had made a mess of all her things. It was then that their friendship truly started. It has lasted even to this day, eighteen years later. However, things were different now, Molly Hooper had spent her life growing up near London and now her life was here. She enjoyed her life in London and didn't see a reason to travel around. Oliver on the other hand was entirely different. In a similar way that Sherlock was prone to boredom, Oliver was also quick to shift around in life. For him staying still in one place for more than a year and a half was difficult. Unlike Sherlock, Oliver was a romantic; He wanted to see everything the world had to offer, to experience every place, every festival, every emotion, he needed to see it all. The only emotion he refused to experience was boredom. As a result, Oliver was also fickle, and changeable. Molly had gotten about two phone calls and a couple postcards from him over the past year and a half from the last time she saw him. She had grown accustom to this though. His unpredictability.

He had always been like this, Oliver. He let his artistic work as a photographer fuel his voyages around the world. He was a freelance photojournalist for various magazines and newspapers. He knew exactly how take in every detail and see the story behind it. So it had surprised Molly to see her best friend calling out her old nickname " Ace". She had gotten that nickname, because she would always beat him at blackjack with an Ace.

"I've been there and I've done that! and... well, I'm here to see you of course! I'm starving though do you mind if I grab a bite?" he said pointing at the fridge, giving her a goofy smile that she had known so well growing up.

"Oh actually I haven't been shopping in awhile so I was planning on ordering some Chinese food. Is that okay?" she asked. He laughed and began to lecture her on the topic that "take out Chinese food" isn't what real Chinese food is like. Molly sighed "Yes , yes! I know! I know you the great worldly traveler know everything about the real world and different cuisines, but humor me please?" she mocked dramatically as she got up off the couch grabbing the phone and take-out menu signaling that fake Chinese food was his only option. He sank back into the couch throwing his feet on to the coffee table in front of him. "Alright Ace. You win" he smiled his adorable smile at her.

Sherlock watched carefully how at ease Molly was with this Oliver Halifax fellow. He had never seen her as carefree and jovial around other people and definitely not around him. Molly's spirit had picked up by simply being around this man. He didn't really understand why it was somehow bothering him. However, later he realized something that Mr. Halifax was a man who lived for sentiment, which he found …well boring. However, he observed that according to Molly, her friend seemed anything but boring. She sat with her legs slightly folded, laid perpendicularly across her best friend's. She was laughing at his antics in the Fiji islands where he had gotten in trouble with a local vendor. Both had white containers and chopsticks in their hands, laughing as they caught up with each other looking like a picturesque happy couple. It annoyed Sherlock greatly. He never understood why people were so caught up with sentiment. It usually just caused them pain. Pain…Another emotion he would rather do without. It simply was not logical and seemed like a waste of time to him. He supposed however, that his annoyance had most likely been due to the fact that he was still human and that he still had to subject himself to the emotion of hunger. Yet, he sat trapped in here without anything edible while Molly and her highly-emotional companion ate food.

"Ace, my dear, don't you think we ordered a little bit too much food" he questioned her looking at the coffee table where extra food was seemingly laying to waste. Molly's eyes widened suddenly as she realized that she had somehow actually forgotten about Sherlock in the bedroom. She turned to Oliver to explain the excess of food. "Oh well you know, I save it… I mean I can just pack some for lunch tomorrow…or…or a midnight snack?" she nodded awkwardly. Molly looked up at her auburn-headed friend and saw his grey looking eyes narrow for about a second, but then he smirked.

"You know Ace I would watch the extra snacking… you have put on some weight since the last time I saw you" he joked looking at her playfully. She laughed and playfully slapped him. "Liar, liar. Pants on fire! I've actually lost around five pounds!" she refuted. Sherlock corrected her mentally thinking _well actually six_. He hadn't taken notice of her weight loss though up until the matter of her weight had just brought to his attention. This had bothered him. It seemed that Sherlock's observational skill was diminishing. _Maybe from a lack of practice these past few weeks_ he thought.

" Yes, I know. I was just pulling your leg" said Oliver setting his white container down on the coffee table. Then, he settled back into the sofa crossing his arms on top of Molly's legs; his disposition was suddenly serious " honestly, though my dear you look a little pale and somewhat sickly. Let's talk about you, are you taking care of yourself?" Molly sighed because Oliver could always see right through her. So she began to explain her weight loss as she placed one hand resting on her sofa supporting her head and the other playing with her necklace, "uh..yeah, I'm… fine. I've just been… you know… fine."

"I think that fine is a very vague term. Would you define it for me?" Oliver shot back at her clearly not pleased and not believing Molly. He always knew what Molly felt; he had known her far too long. Molly laughed "uh…fine in this case means… um… stressed…I've been working long work days and haven't really had time to do anything relaxing." She responded being honest. The past few weeks had taken a toll on her nerves with everything from work, to helping Sherlock with his fake suicide, taking care of Sherlock. As well as the fact that three days ago had been _the_ day. Molly suspected that _the_ day was the reason that Oliver had turned up suddenly.

" and three days ago… are you okay? With that?" Oliver questioned. Molly looked back at him to find his grey, older looking eyes gazing into hers. Sherlock sat confused in the bedroom wondering what was so special about three days ago.

" look… Ollie, my father passed away three years ago… I'm over it. I'm a big girl" Molly explained with a hardened face. Sherlock paused at the new piece of information. He was surprised he didn't realize it; Molly had been throwing herself into her work that day, constantly busy as she kept herself occupied as if she was avoiding something. But when he thought back about the day and found all those signs he had missed. Sherlock looked at Molly seeing the hidden pain. However, he also saw something else, strength.

But it was clear that she was not over his passing. Oliver knew that Mr. Hooper was the one that Molly was closest too. She and her mother had a strained relationship and her elder brother was estranged. Her father was one of her closest loved one, apart from Oliver who was her closest and only friend. Losing someone that important to you is not something that one can just "get over". Oliver explained this to Molly. Molly refused to talk about it because she knew talking about it would bring_ it_ back. The pain of the loss. The sentiment. The last few years had been exactly the same. She threw herself into her work the week of her father's death in order to avoid feeling any pain, and sadness. She didn't want to remember. She wished she could erase things out of her mind like Sherlock could.

Suddenly as if Sherlock had placed the words in her mouth she began " Sentiment is so ridiculous… isn't it. It's completely unnecessary! it forces you to feel such horrible things like pain, obsession, sadness. People are consumed by it, wasting their time when they could actually do something more meaningful with their lives."

Despite Sherlock agreeing with what Molly had just said, since they were his own words, he realized it seemed so out of place. That Molly despite being right wasn't suited to embrace the skepticism of sentiment. Molly seemed like the type of person that deserved to be happy.

Oliver looked at her and gave her a sad little smile claiming "You lost Ace." She looked back at him curiously "sorry what? What do you mean?" He shook his head explaining "you got it wrong…sentiment, emotions they are what make life exciting. Imagine how dull a person's life would be without it. Molly, we are human. We live for emotion. We want to feel love and happiness. Yes, you have a point… a lack of either forces us to feel loneliness, hatred, sadness. But that's what life is about isn't it? Trying to maximize our greater emotions and restrain the negative ones." Molly gazed back at her friend, her brown eyes taking in how he looked straight ahead of him, in another place. She opened her mouth to try and respond but shut it again, thinking. Oliver smiled "don't try to convince me otherwise Molly Hooper. I've been around the world, meeting various groups of people from different backgrounds, ethnicities, belief systems. I've photographed celebrations and wars. But you know what the pattern is? The common factor that links these various groups and inspires things like war…celebrations…art? It's emotion. The sentiment fuels life's excitement. Living a life without it would be simply…well… boring" He finished.

Molly stared at him. She couldn't help but compare the two men that were in her flat at the moment. The one in living room claiming that sentiment is what makes life exciting and lived his life that way. Chasing after it. The one in the bedroom that claimed sentiment was predictable and boring. He spent his life avoiding it. Both however, in her opinion were brilliant. Oliver despite his childlike innocence was a man who experienced much more than she ever would and in that sense was so much wiser. The other was intelligent. Unbelievable. Marvelous. Essentially Sherlock. Molly however, snapped out of it, realizing that she and Oliver had settled into a comfortable silence after the conversation had turned philosophical and let's be honest… a little bit pretentious. She suddenly started laughing, which shifted Oliver's attention toward her looking away from what was in front of him, which he seemed captivated by.

" So… is this why you came then. To lecture me on life and point out how much more exciting your life is?" She said smiling at him.

Oliver began to laugh as he sat up placing his back straight up against the sofa taking the hint that the philosophical discussion of the night was over. " oh no, I came to ask if you would do me a favor…Although yes that is a nice perk of showing up like this" He responded.

"So… a favor… what does that mean?" she asked. Oliver grabbed her hand holding it in both of his. "Do you remember how we made an agreement ten years ago, when we were twenty three, that if we weren't married by age thirty we would be each other's back up husband and wife, like we saw in that one episode of friends?" he questioned her. Molly looked stunned thinking _what? No. He…He can't be serious. I thought we both knew we were joking . I mean I could never marry him. He's lovely of course but He's my oliver. My best friend. It was platonic. At least she thought it was. _"wh-wha-?" Molly interjected out loud

Oliver continued despite her mumblings " well tonight my dear Molly Hooper, my adorable, lovely Molly Hooper. My best friend" he paused for dramatic effect. " will you please consider being… being my… my…best man?" He smiled at the end clearly realizing how he had been toying with her head. Molly breathed a sigh of relief, exclaiming " OH MY GOD. Oh thank god! I was about to have a heart attack! I thought you knew it was a joke when we said that that night at the pub". They were both in hysterics laughing. When they had both calmed down Molly launched herself at Oliver embracing him exclaiming "Oh my god, you are getting married? Who's the lucky girl?" she asked. Oliver explained how he had met his fiancé. She was an Indian doctor who was brought up in London. He had met her when he was writing a piece on birth control awareness in Uttar Pradesh which was one of India's northern States that had an exceedingly high birth rate in a country with an already high birth rate. Her volunteer mission had ended this year and that he had proposed to her a year ago but they both finally decided it was time that they settled down. Molly of course accepted the offer of being best man since she was his best friend. She also claimed that she thinks she could pull off a tuxedo rather well for a woman.

" Wow, Oliver Halifax ending his wonderful journeys to different types of places in order to settle down in London. That must seem somewhat boring for you…" she thought aloud.

Oliver laughed at her thought saying "No. No Molly, it might be hard to give up the beautiful Mount Verde Cloud Forest in Costa Rica or the snow capped mountains of the Himalayas. But I think my greatest adventure is now beginning."

Molly couldn't help but laugh at him, which Oliver took offense to. "Excuse me what exactly is so funny?"

Molly tried to calm herself down "Sorry, no. It's just you're still the same cheesy, romantic I met when I was twelve, aren't you?"

Oliver smiled as he put on his coat as he began to leave responding "and for the last, repetitive time… It keeps life interesting!" She patted his arm agreeing with him.

" Yes. Well isn't this sad. My back up husband is getting married looks like I am all alone now" she said laughing. "Oh well, you have my number and you know where I live so ring me and we'll talk about this wedding Mr. Halifax" she stated with her arm on the door ready to close it after him, as he stepped out in the hallway.

At that comment, however, he stepped back in and began to speak rather quickly saying "well, we both know that you aren't really alone, are you? Oh you know... with that mystery man you've been hiding in that bedroom of yours. I mean don't worry. I'm not going to tell anyone, since you clearly have a good reason not to if you didn't even tell me your supposed best friend that you are hiding someone." He explained half in the door. Molly looked stunned. Oliver noticed her expression and continued.

" Oh come on now Ace. I'm a photojournalist. I try to experience everything to the best, I take in every detail, every figment of what happens around me. You really think I wouldn't figure it out by the extra food we ordered, the violin on the table underneath the mirror that you obviously do not play… oh and also you can tell your mystery man that if the next time he plans on using a mirror to look at people indirectly, that he should consider the idea that the people might be able to see him looking at them through the cracked door leading to your bedroom. Very nicely placed mirror though" he finished.

Molly was stunned and ran back to the sofa to look at the mirror in front of it that Oliver had obviously been using to monitor Sherlock's surveillance of their visit. She saw the cracked door but Sherlock obviously hearing Oliver's last comment had left his position at the crack of the door. _Probably irritated that he had missed something like that_, thought Molly. Molly turned to address Oliver at the door way saying "wow, how did I-?" She suddenly became quiet has she turned to look at an empty doorway.

That was the other thing with Oliver, he had a habit of suddenly leaving people. It made him somewhat unreliable. It also seemed dangerous that he knew that Sherlock was staying with her. He was a member of the media and must have recognized Sherlock, because of his publicity. Even though he acted like he didn't and resorted to calling him "mystery man". Although Molly suspected that this was out of kindness to her, a signal saying "your secret is safe with me". Furthermore, Molly was not worried. Regardless of being unreliable because he was constantly traveling, Oliver was still trustworthy and she knew that he would never tell anyone that she was hiding Sherlock.

Molly turned around thinking about how Sherlock had been observing Oliver's visit. It surprised her because she had never seen Sherlock really take an interest in her life before. Although, she suspected that he was most likely bored. Regardless, it was somehow flattering. She walked into the bedroom to address Sherlock.

Sherlock in order to protect his own pride pretended to be asleep on the bed when Molly came in. Molly understood. They wouldn't acknowledge this night, his mistake. So Molly kept up the Charade. She gently woke up Sherlock asking him to eat, now that her friend had left. They both went into the kitchen and Sherlock sat at the table beginning to eat as Molly cleared up making small conversation about how she would go to the store tomorrow. Sherlock responded when necessary. When the kitchen looked clean Molly decided to turn in for the night and she told Sherlock this.

"Goodnight Sherlock" Molly bade him as she began to walk into her bedroom.

"Goodnight Molly" Sherlock responded still eating with chopsticks in hand, facing in the opposite direction of Molly's bedroom.

He suddenly called out to her though, "oh and Molly?" which caused her to step back into the doorframe and she looked at Sherlock's back, his face still hidden as he stared at the wall, eating.

"He was right, you know…your friend…you aren't alone" Sherlock made his admission stoically. Sherlock glanced at the mirror quickly still not turning around to face Molly. He saw her give him a small, little smile.

She quietly responded "Yes, I know." Molly turned around back into her room and shut the door. They both knew that this was the most Sherlock would be willing to admit. He wasn't of the romantic nature and his one single line of admission is the most he would let on too.

Sherlock sat finishing his dinner staring at the teal blue walls of Molly's flat. Sherlock hadn't realized how Molly like her teal walls looked different in various lighting. Oliver Halifax's visit had forced Sherlock to see Molly Hooper in different light. He was appalled that for claiming to being observant and the world's only consultant detective he had never truly seen Molly. He hadn't noticed how strong she was. He never appreciated her unconditional loyalty. He had never really noticed her. He had missed all those things. He decided that today would be the last day he missed anything like that. He was the world's only consulting detective, afterall.

Sherlock Holmes looked at the teal walls around him, and he also decided that he quite liked the color teal.

END

So yep! There is my first fanfiction ever. I really love Sherlock and am a little obsessed with it. I also think that Molly's Character is Fascinating. Because I think that there is a lot more to her character than Moffat and Gatiss write for her. Also I find writing Sherlock's character actually quite hard so I am really sorry if my characterization is off! I hope you like my Oliver Halifax character. He's incredibly cheesy I know but I like him. He kind of wrote himself. Thanks for reading! I really appreciate it! Any comments are welcome, even constructive criticism!


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